


The Hickey

by Anatui



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Awkward Tension, Bickering, College/University, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hanging Out, Love Bites, M/M, Movie Night, Secret Relationship, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 15:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatui/pseuds/Anatui
Summary: When at last the scarf's out of the way, crumpled into a bundle in Daisuke's arms, it's apparent why Ken didn't want to take off the protective material. His face, pale as always, flushes at the sudden attention, but the pink of his cheeks is nothing compared to the harsh red-brown bruise on his neck, just above the collarbone.Daisuke leans closer, a smirk on his lips. "Say, Ichijouji, how'd you get that huge hickey?"If possible, Ken's flush deepens.ORDuring one of the group's bi-weekly movie nights, the Chosen Children can't help but notice the very obvious hickey on Ken's neck.
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya, Takaishi Takeru | T.K. Takaishi/Yagami Hikari | Kari Kamiya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68
Collections: Daiken Discord Server





	The Hickey

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a Tumblr prompt post of Sweet Affectionate Moments, which I'm going to use for a bunch of fluffy Daiken one-shots because there's not enough fluffy Daiken (or Daiken in general) in this world.
> 
> A FEW IMPORTANT NOTES:  
\- Disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me.  
\- This is cross-posted on FF.Net under Lady Anatui and on Tumblr under ladyanatui  
\- The story is written in Hikari's POV  
\- This is set after Tri and technically after Last Evolution Kizuna (but since that hasn't come out yet, it may not be compliant when the movie's released)
> 
> Enjoy!

"Hai, hai…"

Daisuke's booming voice filters into the apartment the moment Takeru lets him in. They pause in the entryway for coat removal, and I flash Miyako a smile over the peninsula counter, but she's already rolling her eyes under her large glasses.

"Oh, hey, I brought you guys some ramen. This is a new recipe…"

I look up, beaming, when they come into the kitchen. "Hi, Daisuke," I say, pausing before grabbing the next box of Pretz. "Hi…"

Takeru slides behind me to slide the couple boxes of ramen into the fridge, and Daisuke pauses at the peninsula corner with a confident grin that assures me nothing is wrong.

I frown anyway.

Because for the first time since we started these movie nights, Daisuke arrived alone.

Ever since we started these bi-weekly gatherings after Miyako returned from Spain, he has Ken in tow, the taller, quieter boy on his heels, the soft smile he always sports around Daisuke firmly in place. We switch off locations—usually between mine and Takeru's apartment and Ken's, as everyone else has a roommate like Miyako or still lives at home like Iori—and even when Ken hosts, Daisuke is the first there. No matter how early Takeru and I arrive, he's already there, relaxing on Ken's couch or stealing Ken's food like he owns the place. But that's just Daisuke's way.

Oddly perceptive for once, Daisuke scratches his neck as he says, "I just came from dinner with Jun," by way of explanation.

"Oh," I say, then smile. "How is she?"

Honestly, the most impressive part is how mature he's become in regards to his sister. They still bicker and fight, mind you, but they can also sit down for a family dinner without trying to murder each other. Occasionally, the Motomiyas are even sweet.

Right now is not one of those times, though.

Daisuke groans and buries his face in his hand. "She spent the entire time talking about her wedding. Shuu-san only proposed last month, but she's had everything planned since she was six." He peers up at me through spread fingers. "They've been arguing about how realistic her plans are."

I nod as Takeru slides over to my side and wraps an arm around my waist. "Hai, Shuu-san doesn't strike me as the type to want a big wedding." I tear open the Pretz box and pour the contents into the serving bowl in front of me.

Miyako's hand stretches across the counter to grab a couple of the pretzel sticks. "Will Ken not be here?"

I chuckle. Miyako is ever the blunt one.

"Some university assignment," Daisuke says. He shakes his head, though not in answer to her question. "He said he'd be here, though. Shouldn't be too hard to finish quickly. For a genius."

Takeru laughs, his side shaking against mine. "Ken hasn't been a genius in years."

Most of Ken's intelligence was exponentially expanded by the Dark Seed, but even still, he's one of the most intelligent Chosen Children. I can never decide who comes out first between him, Miyako, and Koushiro.

But the dark look that crosses Daisuke's usually warm eyes says he has fundamental disagreements with Takeru's statement.

Another knock sounds at the door, and Takeru presses a kiss to my hair before slipping from the kitchen.

I flash a smile. "Why don't you guys pick out a movie while I grab us drinks?"

Without argument, Daisuke and Miyako push away from the counter, and I go over the snacks one last time to make sure I haven't forgotten anything before opening the fridge.

No, the argument doesn't start until Daisuke and Miyako are actually in the living room, trying to agree on a movie.

They never could agree on anything.

Takeru emerges from the entryway with Iori, and per usual, Iori offers me a small smile. "Thanks for hosting again," he says, inclining his head.

I grin. "We love having you guys over."

A sharp yell comes from the living room.

"Yeah," Takeru says after a chuckle, "after all, it's so quiet without company."

The intense look that crosses Iori's face says he'd prefer the quiet, but he happily accepts a drink before heading into the living room as well.

"Should we wait for Ken?" I ask, shooting an apprehensive look at Takeru.

He steps closer and presses a kiss to my lips. "You know Daisuke's going to insist we do."

I sigh. "And the moment Ken arrives and sees that we waited for him, he's going to apologize until someone convinces him to stop."

Takeru snorts.

He knows as well as I do that that someone will be Daisuke. Those two boys were practically inseparable at eleven, and nearly eight years later, that hasn't changed in the slightest. If there's anyone who isn't afraid to tell Ken to shut his self-deprecating trap and accept our friendship with open arms, it's Daisuke.

Even still, there's no sign of Ken for at least twenty minutes.

Not that that slows down Daisuke and Miyako's arguing. Or how much the rest of us want a pair of earplugs.

I frown when I check the clock again.

Perhaps he lost track of time while working on his assignment. Ken can, at times, be a perfectionist.

But right when Takeru is about to make his third attempt to stop the bickering, there's someone at the door.

I move quickly, eager to get away from the yelling and to make sure it's actually Ken.

When I open the door, he stands on the stoop, his hands deep in his jacket pockets and his face buried in the silky gray scarf—which is wrapped around his neck at least three times. It can't possibly be that cold outside.

"Hey, Ken, you're just in time." I step aside so he can come in. "We were just about to strangle Daisuke and Miyako and pick our own movie."

Ken laughs, but it sounds strangled, and for a moment, he hovers outside the door. Is he trying to decide between coming inside and bolting?

"Come on in," I say slowly.

At last, he steps over the threshold, but he's jittery, his movements uneven. This is more flustered and uncomfortable than he's been around the rest of us in eight years.

The mass of scarf at his neck probably doesn't help with that either.

I slide the door shut and press him in a short hug, hoping I can reassure him, help set him at ease. "Come on, Ken. Get comfortable."

"Right." He nods stiffly, and slowly, he unzips his jacket and hangs it by the door. He hesitates a long moment then, one hand clutching the scarf at his throat, and then he uncoils it enough that it's no longer suffocating but keeps it firmly around his neck.

"We've got snacks out," I say in a quiet voice. "You hungry? Thirsty? What do you want to drink?"

In the living room, the rising voices echo through the apartment.

Ken follows me toward the group. "Maybe some coconut water?" he suggests in a quiet voice.

I nod.

But any further conversation halts the moment the living room comes into view.

"Keeeeeennn!" Daisuke's high-pitched whine fills the air—equal parts amusing and annoying. "Thank god you're here. I need someone on my side, dammit."

Almost immediately, Ken relaxes enough to roll his eyes. "What are the options this time, Motomiya?"

A frown tugs at my lips as I turn and open the fridge to grab a coconut water.

We've all graduated high school now—well, aside from Iori, who's a junior this year—and Ken and Daisuke have been best friends practically forever now. But the only times I've heard Ken call Daisuke by his first name were overheard snippets of private conversation. Any time they're in a public or group setting, it's always _Motomiya_ this and _Motomiya_ that. Even after eight years.

True to form, Daisuke launches into a speech about the mecha movie he chose, all wild gesticulations and upbeat voice, while Miyako huffs behind him, her foot tapping angrily against the floor.

I draw Ken's attention as I set his coconut water on the small table by the couch, but after a grateful smile, his attention darts back to Daisuke's enthusiastic face.

Finally, Miyako can't hold herself back anymore.

"No no no!" she nearly screams, stabbing her finger at Daisuke wildly. "We watched one of your stupid action flicks last time, and I want to watch something fun this time. Something that doesn't end with half the supporting cast dying!"

Daisuke scoffs, barely glancing at her. "Bullshit. You just want to watch a movie where the biggest problem is some generic chick can't decide between her best friend and the cool guy in the leather jacket."

Miyako's gasp is as dramatic as they come. "I'll have you know this is a comedy, and it's cute, and it doesn't even have a love triangle, thank you!"

But he grimaces, turning to her fully. "It's cute?" He casts a glance over his shoulder toward Ken, begging him to join the fray.

His best friend's amusement takes the shape of a serene smile, and Ken considers patiently. "You know, Miyako's right," he says after a moment of silence overtakes the room. "We watched an action movie at our last movie night. Perhaps it's time to choose another genre."

Miyako squeals and launches herself toward the player. In seconds, she pulls out the disk and slips it in.

"Traitor." Daisuke crosses his arms over his chest and glares at his best friend like a petulant child.

Takeru, leaning against the couch armrest, stifles his chuckles, and I slap his knee to keep him quiet.

Ken sends Daisuke a soft smile—one that seems to say, _Calm down. You know I'm right._

For a moment, it seems to work.

Daisuke's face settles into an irritable though resigned scowl, and Miyako joins Iori at the other end of the couch, a victorious smirk on her face as she snatches up the remote. She and Iori share quiet conspiratorial whispers and little snickers.

"Thank god that's over," Takeru murmurs, and he leans forward to grab his drink and drops onto the couch beside Miyako—leaving just enough space for me to snuggle into his side.

But even as the disk loads in the machine and cycles through quiet logos and copyright warnings, Daisuke and Ken are still standing in the middle of the room, blocking the television, having some sort of silent stand-off.

Then, Daisuke cocks his head. "Why're you still wearing your scarf?"

The tension in the room quickly rears its head, and I freeze before I can join the others on the couch.

Ken opens and closes his mouth like a fish, desperate for air.

When he receives no response, Daisuke leans closer with a frown. "Take it off."

"N-no…" Ken stutters, stumbling back a step. "I like it. I want to wear it."

Daisuke just shakes his head and waves away his best friend's excuses. "Take it off, Ken. You look ridiculous wearing that in here."

"No," he insists, shaking his head.

With a scowl, Daisuke crosses the distance between them and tugs at the gray scarf. "Stop being weird. If you're not going to take it off, I will."

"Motomiya…"

The word is a warning, quiet but firm, but Daisuke blazes right past it, untangling the massive scarf, and Ken does nothing to prevent him.

When at last the scarf's out of the way, crumpled into a bundle in Daisuke's arms, it's apparent why Ken didn't want to take off the protective material. His face, pale as always, flushes at the sudden attention, but the pink of his cheeks is nothing compared to the harsh red-brown bruise on his neck, just above the collarbone.

The room is silent.

Until, finally, the disk reaches the menu and starts blasting upbeat pop music into the living room.

Miyako fumbles with the remote to turn down the volume.

The spell's broken.

Daisuke leans closer, a smirk on his lips. "Say, Ichijouji, how'd you get that huge hickey?"

If possible, Ken's flush deepens.

"What have you been doing in your free time?" Daisuke's smirk turns particularly devious. "_Who_ have you been doing?"

Despite the awkward and uncomfortable air to the room, I can't help but wonder too.

In our eight years of friendship, Ken's never had more than a date or two here and there, and none of them turned into anything more. Honestly, he's never seemed particularly interested in anyone, and he's never talked about potential partners the way the rest of us have.

Behind me, Takeru sighs and sits up straighter. "Come on, Daisuke. Don't be mean."

He proceeds as if he hasn't heard a word: "Because it looks like whoever gave you that hickey wants to get to know you better. If you know what I mean." The smirk hasn't disappeared yet, and there are no signs it will soon. "Come on, Ken. You know you can tell me…"

That strikes me as odd.

After so long, it's hard to imagine Ken and Daisuke keeping secrets from each other. Like always, Daisuke's an open book, and he inevitably weasels all of Ken's secrets out into the open—at least between the two of them. Really, by now, Ken knows better than to try to keep secrets from Daisuke. He said as much at our last movie night at his apartment.

But the amused way Daisuke speaks says this doesn't bother him. Strange.

"How long has this been going on?" Daisuke says through a grin. "How long have you been sneaking around and keeping them to yourself?"

Ah.

He's teasing him.

Daisuke knows exactly who Ken's new lover is, and he's teasing his best friend just for the hell of it. Because he knows Ken hasn't gotten up the nerve to tell the rest of us he's seeing someone yet.

"Motomiya," Ken tries again, but his voice quivers.

"They must _really_ like you if they want to mark the great Ichijouji Ken for all the world to see. They must not want to keep your little tryst a secret anymore. Can you imagine how _jealous_ all the girls will be when they learn you're already sharing your bed?" Daisuke says, his words taunting now. "Or were you just so caught up in the heat of the moment that you didn't even realize until the morning? Is he that good?"

My breath hitches.

_He_.

That's all it takes for Ken to regain his ground and his composure. "No," he snaps, pushing Daisuke away, "he's an ass who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. And he cares far more about his pride than the fact that his boyfriend wasn't ready to tell the world yet."

Daisuke scowls and chucks the gray scarf at the floor. "I distinctly remember you saying you didn't want to hide it anymore."

"We agreed to tell them together."

"We're together right now!"

Holy shit.

My legs give way, and I collapse onto the edge of the couch beside Takeru. I don't have to look at the other three to know they're sporting equally shocked looks.

"This is not how it was supposed to go," Ken says, still irritated, but his voice lowers. "We were going to tell them. Using words. In a normal conversation. Not for you to just drop it while bragging about your sexual prowess."

Daisuke grins again. "Yeah, but come on…"

Ken rolls his eyes. "Really, you're a child."

"That would be pedophilia."

His best friend—no, _boyfriend_—only sighs.

"Come on, Ken," Daisuke says, finally dropping his bravado and his frustration, and steps closer. "You were going to back out again. Just like last time." He reaches for Ken's hand and threads their fingers together when there's no protest. "If I'm proud or bragging, it's because you're completely out of my league. I know how lucky I am, and I don't want to hide. I don't want to hide how I feel about you."

Ken's blush is back again, but this time, it's accompanied by a pleased smile. "I'm not out of your league, Daisuke. Stop thinking like that."

Daisuke only smiles and squeezes his hand. "You wanna try again?"

He gives a short nod.

With a determined sharpness in his eyes, Daisuke turns to us, tugging Ken close and tucking him under his arm. "Hey, guys…"

"Hi?" Takeru murmurs uncertainly.

On his other side, Miyako releases a strangled greeting, indecipherable.

"We're together," Daisuke says, his words firm and final, leaving no room for argument. "A couple."

"We've been together for two and a half months," Ken adds, his voice softer, uncertain, his eyes unable to meet ours. "We've been…_I've_ been trying to work up to telling you for a while now."

But Daisuke squeezes him again. "We," he corrects.

Ken meets his gaze, then nods. "We."

For a long moment, they stare at each other in silence.

Then, the couch starts shaking as Takeru bursts into laughter, bending forward to bury his face in his hands, laughing uncontrollably.

We turns to him sharply, and I lay a hand on his shoulder with a frown.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Takeru says, forcing the words through his laughter. "I'm not laughing at you guys, I promise. This is just so uncomfortable." As his chuckles faded, he pushes himself up to look at them again and says, "Seriously, though, I'm really happy for you two."

At the other end of the couch, Iori clears his throat. "Yes. Congratulations."

Between the two boys, Miyako straightens and finally manages to get her voice back. "When did this happen? How the hell did this happen? Tell us everything!"

And I simply smile at the two best friends turned boyfriends as Daisuke launches into an overzealous explanation of how their relationship changed. As always, his hand movements are wild and exaggerated, though one side is decidedly tamer than the other. Because he refuses to release Ken's hand.

Every once in a while, Ken shoots him a sharp look, a warning to keep Daisuke on point—perhaps a warning to veer away from certain details.

Probably details pertaining to Daisuke's supposed sexual prowess. Not that Ken disagreed with that assessment. Actually, Ken was the one who used the phrase in the first place.

I fight to keep the grimace off my face.

Best not to dwell on that thought too long.


End file.
